


The litte black book

by LaughingMcNugget



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, What in the goddamn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 08:28:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6697402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughingMcNugget/pseuds/LaughingMcNugget
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In his downtime, the Paladin does... something in a well worn, leather covered book. One night finds Knight Spencer's curiosity too powerful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The litte black book

Nicole had, when the Paladin thought she was asleep, seen him retrieve a small black book from the pocket of his power armor. Dented leather, brittle around the edges, a thick weight of paper and creases in the spine that made it mold to his hand flawlessly. Those nights when he would be on watch, her supposedly asleep, she would hear the gentle scratch of pencil on paper as he… did something. Wrote, perhaps. A battlelog, a diary maybe. Something for the Brotherhood to retrieve should his body be lost? That night the woman’s red hair was pushed way from her ears so she could hear the tiny moments of her Commanding Officer. The strokes, nearly blotted out by the sound of their fire cracking carelessly beside them, were too ununiformed, too random to be the sharp and clean cut of the Paladin’s handwriting. With a chuckle that almost left her lips, almost left into the night and alerted Danse to the fact that she knew his secret passion; Nicole realized he had been drawing. That knowledge in mind and her curiosity piqued, the Knight settled herself into the plush grasp of her bedroll and awaited the Paladin’s turn to sleep.   
A nudge awoke her, leather gloves crinkling as they secured around her shoulder in preparation to shake her from the depths of sleep.

  
“No need, Danse, I’m up.” She clapped her hand around his in hopes of sparing herself the unintentional crick in the neck he always managed to cause when he shook her awake.

  
Danse squeezed her lightly, then withdrew to give her space “Did you sleep well?”

  
Bits of armor fell to the floor, his recon set of light combat armor he only ever wore when on watch duty or when the fusion cores were low. Tonight, thankfully, was only due to the first.

  
A loose, tired nod, then the woman made a noise in the back of her throat “Well enough. You look like shit. God if you were so tired we could have traded shifts.”

  
The Paladin only bumped his palm to her shoulder, not quite shoving her, merely expressing an almost playful exasperation “Just go and stand watch. I’m exhausted.”

  
With that, Nicole rolled from the bedding, only to have Danse flop down a moment later and curl into her residual heat. She always counted the second shift lucky for that part, as the first 20 minutes trying to sleep on a chilly roll were always fruitless.

  
“Goodnight Paladin.” It was barely more than a whisper, being as her focus was sliding on her own set of recon armor.

  
Righteous Authority sat across her back, nearly a year of pinning her there had molded the leather strap to fit across her chest perfectly; the familiar weight balancing her as though the weapon were just another extension of herself. She walked much lighter than he did even while in full armor, nearly silently when she made careful movements, and her stride allowed her to hear the soft and chesty rumble of Danse’s snore barely moments after he laid down. With effort, she padded over to his power armor, a hulking and inactive mass in the dim firelight, and groped around the leg compartment to find the release latch. Not unlike a small safe, the armor’s storage was clamped shut, though it had no need of a key as it was most often attached to a rather fearsome looking Paladin and that was protection enough for most prying eyes. Nicole caught the release with her finger, a hand braced on the outside of the storage space to be sure it didn’t clank when it opened. The book was there, along with his pencil and a worn down nub of a pink eraser. As she withdrew the book from the little case, Nicole made a mental note to scout out the art supply store they had seen on their way to the airport. A few more pencils and a better eraser would probably make her partner giddy in his own, demure way. The latch clicked softly, and red hair flew when she whipped her head to glace over at the sleeping man’s form. He was still curled up in the fabric of the mat, face buried against the thin pillow. Something that wasn’t quite a smile made his lips curl ever so slightly, and Nicole hoped he was having pleasant dreams. Lord only knows he deserved reprieve from the mess of a world he was born into. With her prize in hand, Nicole retreated hastily to the fireside. Just a few moments were spent as she walked, feeling the worn leather and the bristled spine between her fingers, noting the fact that it was still warm from his hands around it. A little thrill of excitement bounced in her chest as she sat in the rickety old lawnchair that served as their watch station; he had drawn something new that night. With a bit of quiet elation, she flipped the cover back, the first illustration was a simple can, crosshatched with rough shading and a smudge halfway up the page from where his thumb must have brushed over the paper. She nearly laughed upon reading the title ‘A Can by the Red Rocket’. It was definitely Danse’s work, so simple and straightforward. The page flipped, and Nicole ran her thumb over the warped edges, entirely missing her own book of drawings that had been lost in the fallout. On the page was a very familiar nose, black and drawn to look wet as a tongue swept across the bumpy surface. ‘ _Dogmeat’s snout_ ’ was written across the top, and Nicole wondered now many bits of Stag Jerky it had taken the Paladin to make her furry partner hold still long enough to model for the picture. Another page, another crosshatched illustration of some junk, a fan this time. Nicole was almost saddened by the Paladin’s talented hands seeming to be lost to his… unimaginative mind. Still, the simple things he drew were shaded and outlined flawlessly, and she admired the finesse. A few pages turned, and she stopped to find a human face, the page looked spattered by liquid and had a small tear across the corner. A man, perhaps in his late twenties, was smiling something of a sarcastic, suggestive smile from the page. Quite a flirt, it seemed. His eyes looked light, either blue or green by her assumption, and his hair was barely shaded, most likely blond _. ‘Cutler, from memory’_.

  
Oh.

She ran a thumb along the torn edges of the paper, then turned it to look past the face of his dead partner. Another human looked up from the pages, dark eyes and full lips baring the same kind of sarcastic smile Cutler had worn. No scars, no marks, much like a prewar pinup with her smooth complexion. All in all it was a very generic looking woman, aside from the tiny, defining mole just under her right eye. With hesitancy, Nicole sought out the title of this work, only to wince when _‘Cole, First Meeting from Memory_ ’ was scratched into the upper right corner. The page flipped, and her eyes, almond shaped and thickly lashed, stared back. Even with only the eyes drawn, she could tell they had at least been based on the shape of her own. The thin scar that barely showed on the paper, as though he’d tried to erase it, only confirmed they were hers. ‘ _Eyes: a study_ ’ read across the top. She suddenly felt very guilty for prying into the Paladin’s sketch journal, especially now that she had turned three more pages and found three more drawings of herself. One had her back to whoever looked upon it, and it seemed as though she were kneeling over something. Just in front of the little crouching figure was the boot and servo brace of a T-60 suit. _‘Knight’s Armor and a Knight_ ’ was followed by a faded and erased etch of something dangerously close to looking like a heart. Another was her profile, a mug lifted to her lips and the steam showing in the light filtering in from the window. He was very good at capturing little details. The next had her back, and her long hair in a loose braid hung down to the swell of her hips. Nicole almost slapped the book shut and threw it back at her CO’s armor set. However, dangerous curiosity had her flipping the page once more. The regret was immediate. A hand, small and marred with the same puncture wound scar as her right was linking its fingers with a much larger, rougher looking hand. The picture had the same crosshatched shading as the others, though the depth showed much more time spent working with this piece. Nicole felt sick upon reading the unfortunately imaginative title in a peculiarly curvy font ‘ _Holding_ ’. The book had to be closed, the black leather falling over its secrets and never revealing the personal wishes of the Paladin to her ever again. And still, she turned another page, and almost dropped the book when her thumb hit a spot of dampness on the page. Sweat. A smudge mark marred the off-white surface, and the fact that it was still damp showed it had been the page he had used that night. Scrawled across the top, in thick and heavy lettering was the word ‘ _Precious_ ’. Her back, the curve of her hip, and the pack she had strewn about by the bedroll were carefully sketched in exactly how she had left them. The book was slammed shut with a loud ‘slap’, at which Danse jolted awake. He looked bleary, brown eyes scrolling over the environment to see what had alerted him. Then the groggy stare fell on the little book in her hands, and Danse drew in a sharp breath.

  
“Oh no.”

  
Nicole didn’t answer him, she barely breathed when she stood up and paced to his power armor. Her foot struck the side of the storage box with an almighty ‘clang’ and it fell open. She dropped the book inside and turned to walk back to the fireside to wait out the rest of her shift and possibly throw herself into it. Danse pushed himself to a stand, still wobbly on tired legs, before he reached out to snag her shoulder “Knight we need to talk.”

  
With a huff, she stopped and faced him, and her eyes were drawn to his hands. Had she not been in some form of embarrassed shock, she might have appreciated how closely he had gotten his own anatomy on the page “I’m sorry for being nosy, Paladin.”

  
Danse stepped forward, a hand grabbing her wrist with something like possessiveness making his palms sweat “You shouldn’t have done that. But, seeing as there is no way to take back the past, we need to move on from there.”

  
She tested the grip once, it gave slightly, should she tug harder she could be free easily “I won’t ever touch the book again.”

  
“I appreciate that Knight, but that’s not what we need to discuss.” Danse knew she’d seen the sketches. Her eyes. Her hand. Even the curve of her waist was imprinted in the little leather book. The same curve his hand hung dangerously close to.

  
She swallowed roughly “Okay.”

  
Danse sighed, the hand around her wrist tightening slightly “I know that you saw, and I-“ he dropped her hand, opting to use his hand to slick back his hair “-think… You are something of a muse to me and I’m, god, I’m kind of enthralled.”

  
Nicole didn’t make any move to imply that she had heard him. Though the color had left her face quite obviously.

  
“I don’t know if its because you have the most interesting life story I’ve ever heard or if its just because of how genuinely intriguing you are as a person.”

  
How could he say such things without so much as a hint of a whisper bringing his voice down. Loud, he was so loud, loud enough that it wasn’t only the weight of his words that forced her a step back. Until he spoke again, and the words rended her to fall against the dilapidated structure, heedless of the dust that crowned her red hair from the disturbance.

  
“I’d like to court you. If that would be something you’d, uhm, that is if you’d like _me_ to-“

  
That had made his voice quiet, the huge Paladin suddenly seeming like nothing more than a blushing schoolboy “-I wasn’t going to say anything but you. Well, you found out anyways.”

  
He didn’t look at her with some raw lust like in the five dollar novellas, only a bit of patience and an overwhelming amount of hope that glittered in the firelight.   
The only sound that broke her lips was a shallow “Uhm.”

  
Everything hopeful about the glimmer in his brown eyes died at that note “I see.”

  
Nicole raised a hand, and clutched at the fabric of his jumpsuit just over his shoulder “Paladi-“she paused, and stepped forward to no longer lean on the old wood of their shoddy shelter “-Danse. If that’s what you want, then you can.”

  
“I think so.” He didn’t seem to assured by her answer, and it made the usually forward Paladin indecisive “I don’t want you to feel pressured because I’m your commanding officer. Its not something that you should consider lightly, especially with the state of your family-and I’m rambling. I apolog-“

  
“-I shouldn’t have looked at your book. I’m sorry.”

  
She dropped her hand, now merely standing just a bit too close to be considered proper on the Prydwen for couples not looking to consort one another “I think I’d like to be courted.”

  
“By me?”

  
Nicole stepped just a little bit closer, and let her cheek rest on the plane of his chest “Yes. By _you_ , Paladin.”

 


End file.
